My bed. At the end of the day, there is nowhere else like heaven when I wind up a day in my own bed. However far I maybe, if I had the choice, I’d always get back home to my bed and blanket. Get into comfy pjs and just crash.
My spot in the couch. It’s a Sheldon syndrome. My spot is the perfect angle to watch television, perfect distance to listen to the music, perfect corner where the breeze reaches me not too hard and not too subtle and close enough put my leg up.
My sapling friends. Am not an expert gardener but am a learner. And the few plants I have, are really close to my heart. I love looking at them every day. I never knew it was so fulfilling till I saw one of them bloom one fine morning.
My “million-dollar” view (that’s what I like to call it). I wake up to every morning to a soothing view that really puts my mind at peace. Beautiful mystify out-of-focus clouds, fresh air, the music of the birds, the sound of a train passing at a distance – the entire picture is almost a xerox of a part back home, where I grew up.
Shields down comfort. The one place you are truly yourself. A place that doesn’t chain you down, but sets you free. A place where you don’t have to have your guard up, or wear a mask. A place where there is no sense of awkwardness or fear of being ridiculed. Place where there are differences and yet harmony, arguments and always love 😉
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Home Turf.”